


heliotropic

by bloodsweatspit



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsweatspit/pseuds/bloodsweatspit
Summary: a literal pile of trash pines over a fish.
Kudos: 10
Collections: Canada Moist Talkers Fanfiction





	heliotropic

when eugenia went to get lachlan back from charleston, the idea of returning - let alone where she’d land in the batting order if she did - was the last thing on her mind. she looks back now and sees that game as a turning point, a moment of revelation. but the day itself hadn’t felt like that. when she’d tackled lachlan into the feedback storm, she’d barely even been thinking about the next inning - just about the possibility of bringing one of them back home.

she knows it worked out for the best that the second storm landed that game. simon is happy in charleston; eugenia can’t imagine her life anywhere but with the talkers. she does still feel a little guilty sometimes, though. wonders if simon would’ve been happier if he’d stayed. 

but the game went the way it did, and lachlan came back to halifax, and eugenia took haley’s spot at the start of the lineup right before ziwa.

the first few days she was mostly worried about being good enough for such an important place in the batting order. she wanted so badly to do well by the team. eugenia _loves_ the team. has never known any other family. she’d run into a storm for any one of them again, in a heartbeat. in retrospect she’d always known that about herself even if she hadn’t articulated it.

what she didn’t realize about herself - what still startles her with its vibrancy sometimes - is what she started learning after she left and came back. and what eugenia learned (as much as she tries to dodge it in her mind sometimes, as uncomfortable as this can be for her to think in words,) is that she is absolutely stupid fucking head-over-heels in love with ziwa.

it didn’t strike her all at once. it came in little moments. when ziwa said offhand, once, _if you’d stayed in charleston_ and eugenia’s stomach twisted sickly at the thought. as they ran drills in practice until everyone was about to collapse, and ziwa kept cheering them on through their own wheezing, eugenia thought _they are the stubbornnest motherfucker_ _in the world._ she was surprised by the lack of annoyance - and the surge of affection - that came with the thought.

all that time spent on base just ahead of them, watching their tiniest gestures, went from _when do i start running to second_ to _why can’t i stop looking at you._ eugenia began to notice: the way ziwa bites one side of their lower lip when concentrating. all of their piercings, individually, instead of perceiving them as random flashes of sunlight. the precise way they shift their weight back and forth, one hip to the other, when they’re settling into their batting stance.

it got worse: it started happening off the field, when there was no reason for eugenia to be looking at ziwa at all. when they were in the team bus late at night as morse drove them to the airport, and ziwa was across the aisle, curled up asleep in an oversize hoodie. when they were at that kansas city diner and ziwa stood up to pay the bill; eugenia watched them walk to the register and accidentally memorized the precise asymmetrical line of their low-slung belt.

when the team’s luggage got lost and they went together to a duane reade in nyc at two am to get everyone toiletries. they were so cold on the walk back to the hotel - it was warm compared to halifax, but they’d overestimated and dressed lightly, and the cold wind sliced down the city streets like a knife. eugenia watched ziwa as they waited to cross the street. their face was flushed pink; they bounced on their tiptoes, rubbed their hands over their bare upper arms. eugenia tried to stand between them and the wind. she’d nearly talked herself into reaching over with a hug (“for warmth”) when the light changed.

by now it’s second nature for her to know where ziwa is at all times, to orient herself towards them like a careful sunflower towards the light. there was a lot of moping for awhile at the start of course (and a lot of crying while eating junk food) but she’s settled into being a sunflower. whenever ziwa does happen to look back at her, she just smiles and enjoys when ziwa smiles in response. being able to brighten their day for a moment, and able to look at them the rest of the time, feels like enough.

eugenia has never been a main character. even getting lachlan back was a side story for everyone, really, including lachlan himself. for the few days that jaylen was on their team, eugenia watched her, well aware that _this_ was one of the protagonists of the world. jaylen didn’t seem terribly aware. or... rather, it didn’t seem to affect her. eugenia wonders sometimes if thinking about things like “the main characters of life” a lot is why she isn’t one.

to be clear, eugenia is perfectly happy not being a main character. even if she doesn’t personally hold jaylen responsible, she can’t imagine having a dozen deaths weighing on your conscience feels great. she is _definitely_ not signing up to be a lightning rod for the kind of insanity that’s followed jaylen since her resurrection.

but for one moment, right after jaylen arrived, when it looked like ziwa was actually going to hit her, the two had faced each other with an intensity eugenia had never seen before. the air between them crackled with tension. the entire world had clearly dropped away from them. neither blinked. and for that brief moment, as the world held its breath and held still around them, eugenia thought it might not be so bad to be a focal point for all the chaos, if it meant ziwa looking at her like that. 

that was one rare moment, though. for the most part: sunflower.

seasons have come & gone. the chaos of the world has calmed slightly. eugenia has seen ziwa giddy and screaming after big wins, biting back tears after tough days, giving pep talks to others, carrying heavy bags alone. she has seen them in heavy winter coats and scarves; baggy shorts and skate shoes; a couple times even without a hat on, which felt so surprisingly intimate that she blushed fiercely and looked away.

sometimes she forgets that ziwa has a name. just thinks _you._ thinks of them as a complete person, and as a mosaic made of all the little pieces she’s grown to know. as a concept too big to summarize neatly in a single name. ziwa isn’t a protagonist, but they have a story they’re living through, one that intersects with the grand narratives of the world. they have loved and lost and fought battles; they lead others and sacrifice themself.

eugenia has a simple story. she has a hometown. she has a team. she did something mildly heroic, once. 

every day that she gets to wake up and see ziwa as part of her life is a good day. every time she makes ziwa smile, her sun shines brighter. it almost never hurts anymore that that’s as far as it goes.


End file.
